


Day 27: Exhibitionism

by Aichi



Series: Kinktober 2020 [27]
Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Bondage, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aichi/pseuds/Aichi
Summary: Morfessa makes an example out of a pair of troublemakers.
Relationships: Luard & Uscias
Series: Kinktober 2020 [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951588
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Day 27: Exhibitionism

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trashing Uscias every other prompt so it's time for him to finally actually make an appearance right as we're getting towards the end fffhh
> 
> I really don't know how to ship tag this lol It's Luarfessa Really but maybe I just need a Poly Dragwizards tag to be honest.

Nowhere in the halls of Eingang is so well-travelled by its inhabitants on a daily basis as the grand staircase. Spiralling up the centre of the castle like the inside of a seashell, broad slabs of dark, polished obsidian provide access to every level of the fortress, and every day scores of human and elven feet traverse them on their way to laboratories, libraries, bedchambers, studies, and of course the cavernous, echoing entrance hall at their very base.

In that hall, near the bottom of the stairs, rests a wide, flat plinth, upon which a great statue of a dragon had once stood, facing the inside of the castle gates. Its name and history long forgotten, it nonetheless had stood watch over the entrance hall for many years, a silent, unflinching guardian of glittering black stone.

Luard had _not_ been responsible for the incident with the dragon, and frankly, it really isn’t fair that Morfessa keeps treating him and Uscias like a single unit, because that explosion hadn’t been _his_ idea, and Uscias had assured him the spell wouldn’t cause any damage, and _furthermore_ —

Of course, it doesn’t really matter what he has to say anymore, because it’s hard to voice any complaints around the fat red ballgag jammed between his teeth, and Morfessa isn’t here to hear him out anyway. The stone under his bare knees is starting to get _really_ fucking cold and uncomfortable, and he’s becoming acutely aware of how tall a five-foot plinth really feels when you’re perched naked on top of it with your arms strapped unfairly tight behind your back, a heavy metal collar and chain the only things there to catch you if you happen to fall off the edge. Between choking himself on the collar or faceplanting into the unforgiving stone below, Luard would really just rather be back in his room with a nice hot drink and a book or three, thanks.

Next to him, Uscias isn’t faring much better. His fellow aberrant dragwizard has been spared the ballgag, although the ring forcing his jaw open might be even worse. Luard isn’t keen on finding out. Besides the gag, Uscias is identically bound and kneeling, the chains on their collars too short to allow them to stand, and the skin across his chest and cheeks is flushed pink, standing out bright against dishevelled white hair. He isn’t as used to Morfessa’s games as Luard has gotten, mostly because he chooses to slink away from the castle and let other people take the fall for stuff that really, really wasn’t their fucking fault, damn it.

There’s an argument to be made that that actually works in Luard’s favor, but like all things that involve him admitting to any bizarre fetishes, he chooses to aggressively ignore it. Everything is definitely one hundred percent Uscias’ fault, including how obviously, unrelentingly hard his dick is right now. _Definitely_. _One. Hundred. Percent_.

“Oh, _wow_ ,” says a woman’s voice, startling him out of his addled daydreams, “I… don’t know what I expected when she said ‘pet shaming’.”

Esras peers curiously up at them, and Luard immediately starts reconsidering the idea of cracking his skull open on the flagstones instead of enduring another minute of “fair and just punishment”. The young woman’s arms are laden with books, her long pale hair tied back with impeccable neatness, and her eyes glimmer with a quiet earnestness that looks more like she’s stumbled upon a cute kitten rather than two bound and naked men.

Behind her, Liafail is doubled over with his arms around his stomach, trying and utterly failing not to laugh. Luard tries to shoot him a _look_ , but a single glance and the bastard starts wheezing even harder; Luard’s pretty sure the scrunched-up furious eyes he’s trying to manage do not in fact pair well with the obscene shape his mouth must be making around the ballgag.

“Lady Moressa told us you were being disciplined,” Esras explains, a faint smile curving her lips, “but I didn’t really think— oh my gosh.” Her shoulders shake silently for a moment, and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Sorry—!”

It’s probably the only apology Luard will be getting today, and all it does is make more blood rush to his stupid dick.

Beside him, Uscias gurgles, a bubble of drool bursting and trickling down the curve of his jaw. He’s miserably hard as well, which doesn’t seem repentant of him at all, but Luard’s in no position to throw stones. Esras’ muffled, tinkling laughter worms its way under his skin like a disease, one that makes his stomach burn and twist and tie itself in knots, one that stretches and tightens the skin all over his body and doesn’t stop even after she rights herself again.

There’s absolutely no logic to the taut heat between his legs, but there’s a rawness, a realness to being _witnessed_ , to having the entire castle acknowledge, through him, Morfessa’s power, and his place beside her.

That, or she’s just a rotten witch abusing her authority and _all of this is entirely Uscias’ fault_.

“You look like you’re having a good time,” Liafail laughs. Unlike Esras, who is now busy wobbling on her tiptoes so she can get a good look at them, he’s tall enough to reach over and flick the full, reddened head of Luard’s dick. The shock shoots up the shaft like a gout of flame, but Luard’s defensive growl only makes his tormentor chuckle again, and writhing against his bonds only makes the thick leather straps cut sharp, painful lines into his wrists. “We’re allowed to touch you if we want, but I’m not gonna risk it. If we accidentally let you come or something we’d probably end up stuck up there with you.” With a smirk bitter enough to rival Morfessa herself, Liafail turns to leave, then pauses, glancing back at his companion.

Esras shakes her head. “You go on. Take the books. I’ll be right there.”

He doesn’t argue — if anything, his smirk grows even broader — and she offloads the heavy, dragonscale-bound tomes into his arms before he trudges off up the stairs. She waits, still and breathless, until the heavy sound of his footfalls has faded into the distance, then looks left, right, and finally turns back to the pedestal.

 _What do you want_ , Luard tries to say, but it comes out as an unintelligible slur. Drool pools in his mouth beneath his gag, and he straightens his head to stop too much of it leaking out. It’s largely pointless, of course, because his chin and chest are already clammy and damp with his own spit, and his neck tight with the dull but unrelenting pain in his stretched jaw, but he tries anyway, because this whole thing is essentially just an exercise in trying to maintain whatever scraps of dignity they can salvage until Morfessa’s decided they’ve learned their lesson.

The lesson is probably supposed to be _‘don’t associate with Uscias_ ’, but for whatever reason, these things just keep happening. There’s not a lot of people Luard trusts, and Morfessa and Uscias both are, for better or for worse, at the top of the list.

“I’m sorry,” Esras whispers, stretching up on her toes again. She’s a good foot or more shorter than Liafail, and her nose barely clears the plinth. “I can’t really reach.” She sounds almost guilty, her fingers curling nervously on the edge of the stone slab, and yet somehow also like she’s in danger of bursting into another fit of giggles.

Uscias huffs and moans around his gag, erection bobbing between his legs, but even Luard can’t figure out what he’s trying to say. His hair is plastered sweatily to his forehead and he’s almost comically red in the face, eyes narrowed in a familiar bitter desperation — _familiar_ because Luard’s certain he looks almost exactly the same. Maybe a little more composed. Probably.

Esras’ slim, pale fingers are dangerously close to his knee, and Luard’s breath catches like a hook in his throat, because he can just _imagine_ the soft warmth of her hand around his—

Okay, maybe not as composed as he’d like to believe.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, with a strange, quiet sense of contemplation. “I really would help if I could. I don’t mind getting in trouble.” Glancing around the empty hall again, she leans forward, chest pressing against the stone, and whispers even lower, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “I think it kind of looks like fun.”

She steps back, straightens up, and then she’s gone, urgent footsteps pattering away up the stairs.

The two of them are left alone once again, their shame suddenly on parade for absolutely no one and nothing, and there they remain until what feels like hours later, when Morfessa comes to unlock their collars and gags and offer a drink of water, giving them a stern lecture about “serving as an example” that Luard doesn’t quite know how to answer. It’s hard to imagine quiet, bookish Esras destroying an ancient, beloved dragon statue just to get someone’s attention — and incidentally, through no fault of his, the castle is fresh out of such statues anyway — but if there’s one thing Luard _has_ learned, it’s that there are innumerable other ways to draw Morfessa’s wrath.

They might not have provided the kind of “example” she’d expected, but somehow, he’s sure she isn’t going to complain if that truth ever comes out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, Luard, you're giving Morfessa too little credit if you think she didn't anticipate this exact thing. She knows All About bringing out people's kinks. (Like, yours.)
> 
> Twitter: @cosmowreath


End file.
